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Tuesday, November 10, 2015

An Island Calling

I really had no idea what I was in for when I signed up to volunteer for habitat restoration on Santa Rosa Island.

But sometimes, maybe it's better to just have an inkling or an intuition, and not a fully formed thought. Maybe sometimes we think too much, and our ideas get in the way of doing things that really matter or make a difference.

And there is water here, too, as evidenced by the lichen that hangs off the trees like Spanish moss.

Even when we were working in the interior of the island, we were always kind of aware of the beaches that surrounded us—the cool ocean breezes, the sound of the surf, the promise of a swim after a long, sweaty day.

...in a state of perpetual uplift, the shoreline ever-changing, the sand getting blown into dunes.

On our last day on the island, we had just a couple of hours before we had to board the boat back to the mainland, so instead of hiking a trail or sunning myself on the pier, I went back down to the beach...

There were more archaeological findings to be had, more birds to observe, more seeds to plant, more sun to soak, more sunrises and sunsets.

But reality started to creep back in...

...as we made our way through the other islands towards the mainland...

...considering the dishes we'd left unwashed, the messages we'd missed, the people who missed us.

I spent about four days without a cell signal and wifi, and that ended up being a tremendous gift. When our return vessel got close enough to the Ventura Harbor for notifications to start popping up, everything changed. My anxiety—which had completely disappeared on the island—came rushing back. I hadn't really missed anything about my "real" life, and now I had to return to it.

I wasn't sure I'd like a service mission like this, but I've wanted to do one for a long time—ever since I applied for Peace Corps in 2008. And, it turned out, I liked it very much. The island felt more real to me than anything else ever has.

I knew how to live on the island. I followed orders. I had purpose. I woke with the sun and the breakfast chatter of my bunkmates. I didn't have to wear makeup. I didn't shave my legs. I didn't have to carry keys—I don't even think our camp was ever locked. I didn't have to carry a purse,or a wallet. I didn't even have to pay for anything. I didn't have to reply to emails. I didn't feel depressed. I didn't feel lonely, despite the remoteness and the solitude.

Island life was slower, but it wasn't slow enough, and the trip ended too quickly. I know so much more now than I did when I arrived, which means now I know there's so much more to see.

Santa Rosa Island is only about forty miles off-shore, but it's a world away. Going there was probably the best idea I ever had. And much like my time spent in Joshua Tree, the significance of this trip will reveal itself at some point in the future. But for now, I am sure, I am changed.